


To My Dear-not-Real, Captain Fitz

by Japsody



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Love, More characters be aditioned as the history progresses, Napoleonic battles, Regency Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japsody/pseuds/Japsody
Summary: Jemma was not even remotely enthusiastic about her season in London.Most usual than not, she frozed with new people... and the idea of walking arm-in-arm was weird to her. For not mention being flirtatious.There was no way she could get through a social season in London without suffer a panic attack.So she did the most sensate thing to do: She invented a suitor-





	To My Dear-not-Real, Captain Fitz

                     

                                                                                         

 

When Miss Jemma Anne Simmons turned sixteen, her father, Count Hugh Simmons Barterthly XI, contracted nuptials.

For the second time.

With a great ceremony and breakfast banquet.

And Jemma understood, sure enough.

Her father had been deeply faithful to her mother memory for almost teen years but when it became clear that her cousin, the next heir was a total libertine who gambled inside the church, skipped Oxford classes and had no repair about seduce field maidens, her father became determined on have a male heir on his own.

It was that or the family fortune will ruined in six months. According to his words.

And that's why her father remarried.

Because that's how society work.

But what Jemma did not understand was why, her new stepmother was so determined to be nice to her. And enthralled with her next society debut.

Far from being the stepmother of a novel, her father's new wife was warm, polite and loving. She sent for dresses from Paris to Jemma, exquisite pumps from London, perfumes from Spain and more muslin than Jemma ever dreamed of.

And Jemma never dreamed of muslin.

But unlike her young stepmother, she was not even remotely enthusiastic about her season in London. She was a nervous specimen by nature, the crowds gave her panic and she was not sure she could finish a dance without stepping on her partner's feet.

Most usual than not, she froze in front new people... and during formal friends dinners. And even worse, at family dinners.

The idea of walking arm-in-arm was weird, for not mention receiving guests or being flirtatious.

There was no way she could get through a social season in London with her kind stepmother show her off as a peacock in search of a husband without suffering a panic attack.

So she did the most sensate thing to do: She invented herself a suitor-

Her father and stepmother went to the Old Continent by honeymoon, lefting her in a house for young ladies located in Bath. Where Jemma did no more than read in front of sea, dunk her cookies freely inside tea, draw waves crashing on rocks and buy new paint notebooks.

When her father returned, the first thing that her stepmother brought to collision was Jemma presentation in the society and the search for the best single man in London.

And as soon she imagined the crowded ballrooms, Jemma began to tremble. And as always her father was distracted by reading the newspaper.

"Well you'll see, Diana" There was no way for Jemma to call a 24-year-old woman, mom "that will not be necessary."

"As you say, dear?"

"To get the best single man in London, because I already met one. In Bath."

Her stepmother jumped with excitement and crossed the room to join hands with Jemma and demand details about it.

"How did you know him?"

"On a walk along the coast of Bath."

It was not far from the truth, Jemma had known many seagulls and wet vegetation on her walks through Bath.

"What is his name?"

"Uh he..uhm..Leopold."

Good God, Jemma did not know anyone over 50 with that name. She cursed her inability to lie.

"And to what family he belongs to, dear?"

"Fitz but It's not a very big family, I think they hardly visit London. "

"Seriously?” Her stepmother exclaimed impressed. “And why?”

"I don’t blame him" her father finally got involved in the conversation "I would take myself away from London if were not for business, and friends."

"Nobody really get away from London." Her stepmother says to him "But then, where is from this gentleman?"

"Uhmm ..." Jemma thought quickly "Be ... no, ehm ... Scotland?" Although that sounded more like a question.

Jemma had been tempted to say Ireland because it was far enough away to not be discovered in her lie but close enough fot a meeting in Bath, but Good Lord, her father hated the Irish and thanks to her lessons, Jemma knew that a good sum of Scottish surnames began with Fitz.

Her father could not hate the Scots too, could he?

"And what does he do?"

Jemma panicked and said the first, hardest and honorable profession she could imagine.

"He is Captain, he has left with his troop two weeks ago to fight… uh, in France."

Her stepmother sighed wistfully. A red jacket, there was nothing better than a red jacket for a love story. "What color are his eyes?

"Blue"

"And hair?"

"Uhmm, sandy."

"You're in love?"

Jemma surrendered, sunk in the pit of lies she was creating. She hated to lie -mostly because she was terrible for it, but she was more afraid of the season, full of strangers and crowded dance rooms, and now she was sinking in this ridiculous lie.

Her stepmother interpreted her silence as a romantic gesture apparently, because she allowed Jemma to go to her room to think about her gallant Captain. And later, she ordered some maid carry up her dinner.

And that's how Jemma found herself writing a letter to her deeply false suitor.

 

 

 

_September 15, 1808_

_To Captain Leopold Fitz,_

 

_There is no greater consolation that you, dear Captain Fitz, are false. Because that way you will not have to be forced to read this shameful letter._

_I am a terrible liar and now it turns out that I am also a bad Christian -for lie to my father and young stepmother, openly. But I panicked Captain Fitz and you, like many other men, will never understand how deeply intimidated a woman can be by a season._

_And I am._

_I am terrified by my aunts' descriptions of dance halls and formal presentations and bows and dinners and everything... it's too much._

_So invent you, it seems the maximum summit of my ingenuity. Imagine that now I have just received dinner in my room and my father has told me that tomorrow I can read the newspaper before him._

_And you can not imagine how fussy my father is about the newspaper._

_I must also tell you how we fall in love. It was during one of the swift encounters we had on the shores of Bath, and even you wrote me a sonnet. Because you are a very sensitive person despite how rude it turns out to be your profession.  And you has made me many promises, which at one moment I was reluctant to accept but then you swore that distance and war would not spoil those feeling, that our love would be strong and I... And I've read a lot of novels, apparently._

_Here, I draw you a cockatoo._

_With love,_

_Jemma A. Simmons -a bad Christian._

_October 9, 1808_

_My Dear-not-Real, Captain Fitz,_

 

 _I have decided to stretch this farce for a whole season. You see, now my family sees me as a kind of married woman who does not need to atent every dance hall, party or masquerade. I inspire a kind of respect to my cousins. Now when they visiting the dressmaker laugh and cackled but no longer try so desperately to integrate me in their gossip. Instead, I sit in a chair, along with some of my aunts and watch my cousins go through_ _fines cloths and lace, again and again._

_I have read three encyclopedias of mammals during these boring afternoons. And I've had lots of tea trays in the living room, which my stepmother sends for me. She thinks I'm writing to you._

_And the truth is that I do it, as you fictitiously know, by fictitiously receiving all those letters that I throw in the mail._

_But I have also advanced a lot with my drawings._

_Have, here goes an ostrich._

_With gratitude,_

_Jemma._

 

 

_November 26, 1808_

_My dear Captain Fitz,_

 

_We have a new supporter in favor of our impossible and tragic love. I have write to you before about Aunt Maude, but what you don’t know is that she used to be a demi monde, scandalous and ruined in the French court by some Count. Now she has come to stay with us and is absolutely delighted with our history._

_You will forgive me, if I exaggerate about your attributes but she always looks so excited when I talk about our brief meeting in Bath, that from now on, you have a mustache._

_The one that tickled me the only time you kissed me._

_But don’t get upset, it's an honorable mustache. I imagine it like something twitchy and gritty, like you hair color. By Aunt Maude words, you mustache is stylish._

_Although father does not want to hear about your mustache or anything. My stepmother Diana says he may be a little jealous because he began to take better care of his own mustache and they fell into a huge argument -with Aunt Maude making funny coments- when she convinced him how ridiculous he looks when he curls it._

_As all that was taking hours, I decided to take my drawing ink and go to my room to finish the sketch of African insects, of which I spoke to you in some of my other letters. By the way, they going great. I went to the Natural Science Museum again and full myself with inspiration._

_Now Aunt Maude has convinced my father that I must receive breakfast in bed, every morning, because I am love sick. A kinda stronge illness, apparently, because dad obeyed her._

_I have chocolates and tea at my disposal. I continue reading the newspaper before my father and my stepmother leave me alone entires afternoons in the principal salon._

_She believes that I am writing memories about our love._

_And I even  have a new teacher of watercolors. He is not very skillful but I appreciate my stepmother gesture to get my mind out about the horrors of war that you must be living._

_Aunt Maude has helped me to map the progress of you campaign against Napoleon, telling me stories about the French court and her perfumed lovers._

_She says that when you smell lavender, you will be close to victory._

_As I said before,_

_Be careful, my dear Captain Fitz._

 

 

_June 14, 1809._

_Dear Leopold. -I suppose we can call each other by our names._

 

_Allow me to tell you that since yesterday, I am immensely and deeply unfaithful to you._

_I love another one._

_How could I not?_

_He smells delicious and held my hand just when we meet us. He has huge brown eyes, and so far, has only belched in front of me once._

_He is a complete gentleman._

_His name is Hugh Albert Percival Simmons XII and he will be the future heir of everything that my father owns. Let the bells ring!_

_He will receive the best of British education, he will be an expert in fencing and horse, possibly he will be educated in Aton and Oxford -for family tradition- and I will teach him everything about amphibians, mammals, birds, dolphins and plants._

_And I'm perfectly fine with that, now that I don’t have to marry for fear of falling into poverty when our libertine cousin took possession of our family's inheritance._

_Finally I can be the spinster that I always knew I would be and dedícate freely to my drawings and greenhouses._

_Look here, I send you the drawing of a fern that I found walking through the new garden of my recently married cousin. -They say that she will also bring a new member to the family, in about 5 months according to Aunt Maude, despite being married just a month ago. It was a big scandal, they found them inside her father's library, I understand, not sharing the reading. I wish you would have been here with me listening the funny way that Aunt Maude told it ..._

_Be Careful,_ _Jemma._

  

_August 7, 1912_

_Dear Leopold Fitz,_

 

_Please show off your good imaginary humor and laugh at this barbarity._

_Aunt Maude has convinced my godfather, The Noble Count MacKilling, to leave me a little something in his will... A Manor House._

_God save me._

_And guess where?_

_In Perthshire._

_And that is in Scotland._

_So you and I have where to settle down together once this infinite war against Napoleon ceases._

_Please, laugh at this absurd proportions farce and about this perfect house, with perfect villagers and farms that we will have to worry about, in our perfect false life._

_A Manor House! This already scales the insane._

_Ah! And if you are asking, imaginary Captain Fitz, my godfather does not enjoy, honestly - if you can trust me when I say, honestly - of a very vigorous health._

_Be careful._

_With love, a very stunned Jemma._

 

_November 5, 1912_

_My dear Leopold Fitz,_

 

_I have a pillow. It’s a perfect goose feather pillow that I imagine should have been extracted with the help of hot water and gr... Well, I know that you don’t appreciate such graphic descriptions._

_It’s not charming? How much I am immersed in this lie that I imagine you, with a bewilderment face every time I start talking about visors and amphibians? Surely Aunt Maude will find it charming._

_But I find it alarming. How much I put in you a counterpart of me..._

_But going back to the pillow…I also have a hot brick, which my maid prepares for me every night in winter and I place it under the pillow and hug it to warm up. And many times, I imagine it is you, Captain Leopold Fitz-Pillow._

_That we woke up before dawn and quickly dressed, trying not to make noise, to pluck us from the servants with breakfast trays that they insist on bringing. Then, we run to the greenhouses where we take care to capture in watercolor the morning dew on the plants leaves, or the snow accumulated on trees. I imagine that you accompany me, complaining about the cold, with your hands frozen so I allow you to take my hand as we walk back to the house, pretending that I do it because your masculine pride rather than the cold. When reality I just want to hold your hand. Then we breakfast without disscus about politics or gossip or about pigs and chickens, or scandals and nobility. You always ends your ration before, complaining, like a good Scottish, about littles English portions._

_And then, we spent hours in the studio reading, in the company of the other._

_Aunt Maude would say that are fantasies, that husbands are anxious to escape to men's clubs as soon the breakfast is over, to get away from children and screams, to the lessons and the wives, but I'm sure you're not like that , you are…_

_Anyway, I've been reading too many novels, again._

_I hope the winter is not hitting particularly hard to the place where your regiment is, my imaginary Captain-Pillow._

_My best wishes, Jemma._

 

_July 13, 1913._

_Dear Leo,_

 

_As you know, I am an efficient big sister. Every day I read to little Lord Hugh, about animals that he believes are fictional but actually exist, like the Amazonian Iguana. I also participate in tea times with Miss Maddie, who likes to stain her little white aprons with jam, for my stepmother horror._

_And I actively participate in their piano and language lessons._

_Because it never hurts revise Latin._

_But what I never imagined, when I began with this whole thing of a false suitor, was that my siblings, at the tender age of four and three, would include you in their prayers._

_Every night, under my stepmother tutelage -who you know, adores you-, they make a prayer for Captain Fitz, for his health and well-being and for his soon return to home._

_And every night, when I see their little heads together praying, a big icy metal cuts my heart._

_Actually, if you were real, I think I would be crying with fear. But here I am, terrified of what will happen once I finish with all this lie that has escalated too far, because I will break my father heart, who always talks about you with his guests, sharing a Scot glass. And to my dear stepmother. And to Aunt Maude… actually, I'm afraid of her reaction. And to my cousins, aunts, uncles, and above all, to little Mr. Hugh and Miss Maddie, who talk about you as a real brother._

_Well, now you're part of my family, and I don’t know how to deal with that._

_Jemma._

_October 21, 1913_

_Dear Captain Leopold Fitz,_

 

_Forgive me for this._

_I know you're not real, sometimes I even have to rememberme that to myself, and I know for some time now that your departure will affect my family in such a bad way, but I can’t continue with this anymore._

_I am still miserable in social gatherings, my hands still sweat every time I am introduced to someone –being a spinster or not, and I am still a horrible liar. I don’t know how I could got so far about you, and that is why this has to end._

_You will have to die_

_I'm so sorry... You don’t know how sorry I am, but I promise to give you an honorable death. You will die in battle saving three -No, six- of your men in a great feat of honor and bravery. Possibly not on horseback. Because I would hate to have to kill a horse too._

_My tears will be real and surely the pain of Aunt Maude will be at the height to the circumstances, with her nostalgia attacks for the French court and opera songs. In addition, I promise you, I always will honor the memory of our fleeting and quick encounter on the shores of Bath._

_Goodbye, dearest and dead in action, Captain Leopold Fitz._

_With love, Jemma._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a book I read ... I don't remember the name but if you are interested ask me and I will find it for you.  
> The good news is that It will be short chapters and I already have the second one finished, but the bad news is that I have written it in my mother tongue and now I must transcribe it to english, because that is how this world works. HJAHAHA.  
> Now I think the updates will be on Fridays, because that gives me the time to write in english and finish the next chapter.


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